#the hart and the hare

[mekanikaltrifle]

She curled up on the bed fully-clothed and went for a nap. And he's okay with it. :D

[henk-heijmans]

How long could the hare sleep and still win the race against the tortoise? - by Vikki Hart, English

[jadeseadragon]

Luke Hillestad, b. 1982, based in St Paul, Minnesota

[weirdlookindog]

The Greed of William Hart (1948)

AKA Horror Maniacs

[acircusfullofdemons]

💫. ┊    False Moon in Wonderland! There's already an AU of them going to Wonderland & meeting my aiw ocs (aka the Tamagotchi AU) HOWEVER this is completely different. It has FM themselves as the aiw characters. Its sorta like my Romeo & Juliet AU, in which Cali forces all his friends to put on a play, this time it's AIW lol.

┊┊🕹. 　uhm elaborating on this would take. way too long. here's the link to the gdoc I made. but from left to right:

Calypso as the Mad Hatter!

Elliott as Alice!

Cyber as the Dormouse!

Jane as the White Knight!

Rowan as the March Hare!

Toby as the White Rabbit!

┊┊🕹. 　&& i haven't drawn them in a while but Macbeth & Glitch would be the King & Queen of Hearts respectively. I think they'd try to get Emory as Cheshire but he'd go to another dimension to avoid it, so Vincent would play Cheshire, much to their delight.

[thedepartmentofdiscoveries]

Helen Mirren in the play, Teeth ’n’ Smiles’, 1975 – by Dennis Hart.

[hartxhare]

DiNovember- Brachiosaurus

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[plethoraworldatlas]

Conservation groups filed objections this week to the U.S. Forest Service’s proposed final management plan for the Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre and Gunnison national forests in western Colorado. The plan would allow commercial logging on more than 772,000 acres of public lands, including mature and old-growth trees — a 66% increase from the current forest plan.

“A sizeable area of our beloved forests could be sacrificed to commercial logging at the expense of our already dwindling wilderness areas, wildlife habitat and recreation,” said Chad Reich with High Country Conservation Advocates. “Outdoor recreation is a far larger economic driver for our communities than the local timber industry that benefits from cutting these forests. The Forest Service would’ve known that if it had conducted an economic analysis, as required by law.”

Under the proposed plan mature and old-growth forests, which store massive amounts of carbon, could be commercially logged. Forest managers would not be required to identify and protect old-growth and mature trees. Steep slopes across the forests, including Upper Taylor Canyon and Slate River Valley, could also be logged despite the high risk of severe erosion and threats to water quality.

“The proposed plan directly violates federal policy on protecting mature and old-growth trees as a cornerstone of U.S. climate action,” said Alison Gallensky, conservation geographer with Rocky Mountain Wild. “The Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre and Gunnison national forests boast the highest carbon sequestration capacity of any national forest in the Rocky Mountain region. Despite this the Forest Service has failed to ensure these vital carbon sinks aren’t logged and sold.”

Objections also challenged the Forest Service’s failure to take urgently needed climate action by prohibiting new coal leasing in the plan.

...

The Forest Service recommended adding only 46,200 acres of new wilderness area in the final plan. The community’s conservation proposal had called for more than 324,000 acres of new wilderness lands. In addition, the Gunnison Public Lands Initiative offered a broadly supported proposal for new wilderness and special management areas in Gunnison County that was mostly excluded.

...

“Community members proposed special management area designations to protect pristine forestlands in the North Fork Valley from logging and oil and gas drilling,” said Peter Hart, legal director at Wilderness Workshop. “The Forest Service ignored those proposals and chose not to protect those areas in the new plan.”

The groups also raised concerns about the plan’s failure to address the myriad needs of plants and animals that depend on the forests.

“Over 20 years ago Colorado Parks and Wildlife reintroduced Canada lynx to the San Juan Mountains,” said Rocky Smith, a long-time forest management analyst. “This is a great source of pride for wildlife lovers in this state. Lynx are federally threatened and depend on mature forests with large trees. This plan allows for logging that could easily degrade or destroy much of the best habitat for lynx and their main prey, snowshoe hares, and undermine Colorado’s hard work to reestablish and maintain a viable lynx population.”

The Grand Mesa, Uncompahgre and Gunnison national forests also provide habitat for the iconic bighorn sheep and lesser-known species like the Grand Junction milkvetch and the Tundra buttercup. These species, among others, need special designation the Forest Service grants to plants and animals when there is concern about their ability to survive in the area. Many struggling plants and animals were left off the list in the proposed final plan.

“Without the species of conservation concern designation the Forest Service has no obligation to make sure the plants and animals continue to exist locally,” said Chris Krupp, public lands attorney with WildEarth Guardians. “In many cases, the agency decided not to designate wildlife, plants or fish merely because it had no data on their population trends. Without species of conservation concern designation, the number of bighorn sheep in GMUG could dwindle down to almost nothing and the agency wouldn’t have to do anything about it.”

[noodles-07]

wanted to try my hand at a web weave so here's my first one, in honor of pride month and queer history

sources and a bit of history:

Image one: the only known photograph taken on the first night of the Stonewall Riots, taken by Joseph Ambrosini

Image two: lyrics from "LGBTQIA: A New Generation" by Matt Fishel

Image three: Unfinished Painting by Keith Haring, one of his final paintings before he died of AIDS and intentionally left unfinished to represent his life being cut short

Image four: lyrics from "Pride (How Many More Have to Die)" by Jake Edwards

Image five: the first pride flag and the sewing machine it was made on

Image six: lyrics from "Jackboot Jump" by Hozier

Image seven: a photo from Gideon Mendel's "The Ward" series of photographs, taken inside a hospital ward treating AIDS patients, of a young patient with his family and lover

Image eight: the Lovers of Modena skeletons, two men who were buried hand in hand

Image nine: lyrics from "History Hates Lovers" by oublaire

Images ten and eleven: images of Alan Hart and Dora Richter, two of the first known people to undergo gender affirming surgeries

Image twelve: the ending of Sylvia Rivera's "Y'all Better Quiet Down" speech from 1978

[sortiarus-de-naturas-daemonum]

💀 Demons of Necromancy 💀

This is a compromised list of demons to work with if you are looking to work with the death demonic. These all have descriptions coming from multiple sources.

Buné- In all of her grimoire appearances, she is described as being able to move the dead bodies place to place and cause servitors to enter a dead body.

Stolas- As he is described in the Book of Offices/Oberon, he can help with Necromancy, "The 5 is called Mistalas, he receavinge mans shape hath power to teache & instructe one in witchcrafte & nicroma<ma>ncye & knoweth the vertues of herbes stones & trees, & appeareth like a night raven."

Eurynome- As described in Collin De Plancey's Dictionnairre Infernal, She is the Princess of Death and Surperior Demon. She also has origins as a deity, in my upg her being a shard of the greater Eurynome herself.

*I Use She/Her for her since her origins is of being a feminine Pagan Godess.

Orobas- As described in the Book of Oberon, Orobas as Auras and appearing as a Wild Ass can carry the dead to their appointed places. This trait can also apply to him communing with the dead.

Murmur- She is the second duke and second earl under Egin and can constrain the souls of the dead as explained in the Ars Goetia.

Bifrons- A demon exclusive to the Ars Goetia, he changes the locations of dead bodies, and lights candles on the graves of the dead.

Gamigin-He is described as brings forth the souls of those who died at sea or are afflicted in purgatory, making them appear in an Airy body in which they will answer the conjurer's questions.

Gasyaxe/Geenex/Joorex- A demon from the Book of Oberon. He speaks with a small voice and comes in the form of a hare, a hart, or a valiant captain but comes soonest when commanded into a ring or the head of a dead man, through which he will proceed to teach necromancy, magic, astronomy, physics, and other sciences.

Sources:

The Book of Oberon

The Lemegeton

Dictionairre Infernal

Feel Free to Reblog/Add on with any other Demons found that are associated with necromancy! (This list is just done from my personal research)

[plutodetective]

I’m looking up meanings of the characters’ surnames so I know how to adapt them when I write my modern day Brazilian adaptation, and

Harker is an English surname.

Some genealogical records show that the origin of Harker comes from the North-West regions of England- North of the Lake District. Speculation is that Harker is the result of the combination of Romanized hyphenation of the surnames Hart or Hare and Kerr. (Hart - a type of stag; Hare - a rabbit; Kerr - a marshland.)

... Just when I thought Jonathan couldn’t get cuter. Or that Dracula couldn’t see him more as prey.

[mekanikaltrifle]

bonus Diana sketch for the Diana fans (the real fans, actual champs)

[holespoles]

March Hares, Celia Hart.

[queenlucythevaliant]

The remnant there who survived the exile is in great trouble and shame. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down.

After the door in the air was shut, King Caspian brought together an assembly of his friends and advisors. There, he called the dwarf Trumpkin to speak concerning what he had seen of Cair Paravel.

“Well,” said Trumpkin, “I can’t say that there was much left of the place when I was there. The walls are in pieces and it’s all overgrown. You’d scarcely know it was ever a castle, if you weren’t expecting to find one.”

“But could it be restored?” asked the king. “In your opinion: as a craftsman and a Narnian?”

Trumpkin seemed to ponder this for a moment, but his answer came readily enough. “We’d have to rebuild it from the foundations. Quarry stone, cut timber, and tear out all the plants that have grown there by the root— and that’s all before we so much as lay the new cornerstone. But if we go about it the right way (I mean, with the good guidance of Aslan and all)—yes, I think we can manage it.”

“But is it the thing that we ought to do first?” asked Doctor Cornelius. “After all, the Telmarine castle stands, and it will serve. There’s much else that needs doing at present.”

“It is a worthy undertaking,” piped Reepicheep, who was now standing atop his seat almost at attention, one small paw on the hilt of his rapier. “One more urgent and noble than any other work before us now. Cair Paravel is the ancient seat of justice in Narnia, and the graves of Old Narnian kings are on its grounds.”

A silence fell, and when it became clear that no one particularly felt like disputing the Mouse’s words, Caspian nodded his head solemnly. “Very well then. We rebuild.”

.

It was a little after noon and the sun was high on the day that Old Narnian exiles first returned to the shores of Cair Paravel. They arrived in row-boats and dinghies and on ferries from the mainland, for no ships had yet been built. Trumpkin and the King were in the lead boat together, and by Trumpkin’s direction the boats made landfall along the stretch of beach that ran alongside the ruins of Cair Paravel. Behind them came a host of Red Dwarves and Black Dwarves with their tools. There were Centuars, led by Glenstorm and his sons, and Beasts of all kinds: Clodsley Shovel and his Moles, the Hardbiters and the Hares, nimble-footed Harts, mighty Bears, Sables, Hedgehogs, Dogs, Horses, and the Mice with Reepicheep their Captain. Then came the fauns, with Mentius and Obentinus. Last of all were the Birds, soaring over the ships and calling to one another in high voices as they went.

When the first boat alighted on the shore, a great cheer went up, starting at the king’s boat and fanning out to all the rest. Caspian stepped onto the soft sand with a crunch and surveyed the place where the ruins of Cair Paravel sat. He could not think of anything suitably momentous to say, so he sank wordlessly to his knees and looked up, giving thanks to Aslan.

That night the whole rebuilding party camped on the beach. The dwarves built bonfires and the fauns played their flutes and there was song and dance. A few of the centuars were old enough to remember living in the lands around the Cair before the Telmarines had driven them off, and those that did wept. A few of the younger creatures wept too, though they could not express why. Yet Dumnus led the singing of loud choruses and some of the others whooped and hollered for joy. The sound of their voices, both the weeping and the singing, mingled together and fled into the night.

The next day, the dryads and naiads of the land around Cair Paravel came down to the beach. The giants, who had come from the mainland on foot, arrived not long after. Their number complete, the Narnians set to work.

.

“One thing we have in our favor,” Doctor Cornelius said, scroll still half open before him. “The historical records on the construction of the castle are exhaustive. There are plans and specifications for every inch of the place.”

Caspian straightened, wincing a little. He’d been helping one of the naiads clean debris from the courtyard well, and his back ached from bending over. “You might try telling that to the black dwarves,” he said. “They still haven’t figured out where to dig.”

Once the dwarves had assessed the ruins of the castle, they used a kind of scrying magic which Caspian did not understand in order to find a quarry of new stone to match the old. The trouble came when the time came for the stones to speak: they would only sing, in voices too deep for words.

“They’re too busy celebrating to tell us where they came from,” said Winnibrik gruffly when Caspian inquired about the progress of the quarry. “And I can’t blame them for that, really. It’s good that there are Narnian feet in this place again.”

Dryads guided parties into the forest to show which trees could be used for timber, and then Horses and centuars dragged the beams back to the Cair. In general, such work would have been beneath them, suitable only for dumb beasts of burden; but they did it without complaint. They knew, as everyone did, that they were in the midst of a great work.

Yet it was the cleaning and removal of debris that occupied most of the workers. Trufflehunter knelt in the dirt, patiently pulling broken bits of twisted metal from the ruin of the small armory. He hummed as he went, something lilting and wordless. A little way behind him, in the courtyard, a group of fauns hoisted a fallen apple tree and carried it away.

.

It was shortly after the foundation had been laid that a band of efreets appeared from the north. They arrived late in the evening while Caspian was dredging one of the cellars and asked to be brought before the king. “If it please you, sire, let us build with you,” said their leader, a broad creature with a toothy smile. “After all, we are Old Narnians too.”

Caspian, who was knee deep in water and soaked to the skin, called for a halt and went to confer with his councilors.

“You ought to have nothing to do with them,” said Trumpkin firmly, “not by my advice.”

“I should think not!” echoed Trufflehunter. “We’ve no need of any congress with creatures of that sort. Cair Paravel must be rebuilt by those who follow Aslan.”

The efreets, however, were less than accepting of this verdict. A few nights later, a Dog reported that he’d smelled men in the woods and a few scouts confirmed that Telmarines were camped a few miles upriver. “It seems that our ghoulish friends are angry with us,” said Caspian, “though I can’t for the life of me imagine what an efreet could have said to make a Telmarine come with him this close to the sea. At any rate, we ought to be alert. Send someone down to the treasure chamber and distribute whatever weapons you can find to anyone who can use them.”

So, as the walls of Cair Paravel rose up, the Narnians carried swords as they worked. At night everyone camped together inside the great footprint of the castle, with guards stationed on the half-built watchtower under the stars.

Reepicheep took more watches than anyone, for he said that he liked to be alone in the stillness of such a sacred place. “We needn’t be afraid,” he told Caspian softly one night. “Cair Paravel is ours, and we are Aslan’s. What can hurt us here?”

.

The Brothers of Shuddering Wood built the entrance to the main foyer, armed with heavy dwarven hammers that seemed to split the air when they fell. The hung the gate one glittering morning when the sun was on the sea. They left it wide open for the rest of the day.

Clodsley Shovel took the Moles to set the king’s garden to rights, and one day the Mice joined them in repairing the Tombs of the Kings. When they were through, they brought trimmings from the garden to decorate the monuments. The Dogs dug holes for posts, and a greenhouse soon followed. Then came the armory, the buttresses, the tower of guard.

“Was all of this really here before?” Caspian asked in astonishment. The water-gate had just been completed and his old tutor was beside him, looking up at the intricate device of bolts and bars that kept it securely lowered.

“Yes, my boy, it was,” said the old man. “It’s all in the books, you see?” Caspian felt a lump build in his throat: something like pride and another something like hope. He tried to swallow around it.

Hogglestock and Trufflehunter split the middle-sized Beasts into pairs for the construction of the broad wall. They told stories as they worked, in loud voices so as to carry down the length of it: stories that usually started with “Remember…” and occasionally, “In the days when Peter reigned at Cair Paravel…”

The great feasting hall came together little by little. The eastern windows were cast by dwarven artisans from enormous panes of glass while Glenstorm and his sons built the dais and drew sketches for the skylight. Wimbleweather carried great stone pillars in his arms and set them down where Ravenscaur instructed from his perch in the rafters. The Oak and the Beech made carvings on the seven heavy doors that led into the hall, and when they were through dwarven smiths fitted them with handles of silver and gold.

They ate in the hall together when it was built, though the walls were still bare and their voices echoed. The Bulgy Bears carried in the first piles of food from the kitchens, which were at last in working order. They heaped it on makeshift tables with little concern for appearance: grilled fish, pheasant, and apples prepared in every imaginable way.

.

When the last stone was laid in the castle, Caspian decreed a day of general celebration. But when he turned the corner down the hallway to the grand staircase, Caspian saw Trumpkin standing at a window looking morose, with tears in his eyes.

“Come now, Trumpkin, what’s the matter?” said Caspian as he came to a stop beside his friend. “Today is a happy day, and there’s no room in it for tears.”

Trumpkin made a sound between a snort and a sigh as he turned to face his king. “Certainly, your majesty. No tears today. But—” he smiled beneath his beard, “—Turnips and thunderbolts, Caspian! If you’d asked me a year ago, I’d have laughed myself silly rather than imagine that any of this was possible.” He swept his hand towards the window and Caspian looked out.

It was a crisp, cloudless morning, the sky bright and clear, and the sounds of singing and of instruments being played filtered all the way up to the tallest tower. Caspian watched the Dogs running to and fro as they prepared for a hunt. Dryads danced in the courtyard and fauns played their flutes. Beyond the wall, a group of dwarves were coming up from the beach, where they’d just arrived with several boats full of gold and jewels from the mainland with which they meant to beautify the castle.

“Why Trumpkin!” laughed the king, “I’m surprised at you. Wasn’t it on your recommendation that all of this was done?”

Trumpkin shook his head ruefully. “My foolish optimism, perhaps. Aslan’s Mane, but times have changed.”

He cleared his throat and nodded towards the beach. “King Edmund said he’d have built a bridge if Cair Paravel had been an island in his day. What say you, King Caspian?”

The castle still needed furnishing, but there were finally tables in the feasting hall and the armory was stocked with swords. Doctor Cornelius was well on his way to reestablishing the library, and soon Cair Paravel would be adorned with the finest dwarven jewels.

“Next year,” Caspian replied. “I’ll put you in charge of its construction.”

Remember me, my God, for good.

[3amdistress]

no me siento querida… deberia irme? no es como q no lo ame, es solo q no me llena. me comento algo y esperaba q lo solucionariamos juntos, pero no me volvio a hablar del tema. soy la unica q lo menciona. entiendo q pueda estar ocupado, pero yo soy un individuo tb. tal vez tengo mas tiempo libre q el, pero con mucha mas razon es q necesito q hablemos… pero el sigue sin decirme nada… y yo ya no se q hacer… quiero darle espacio para aclarar su mente, pero mientras tanto no puedo hacer mas q llorar al pensar q hay una minima posibilidad de q me deje. me va a dejar? entonces pq no lo hace ya… me dan ganas de dejarlo… a el lo amo mucho mas de lo q me ama el a mi aunq yo me amo mas de lo q lo amo a el… eso es lo q el no sabe. me esta perdiendo. asi, dudando, esta queriendome hacer alejarme de el. dios puede q se sienta igual ahora q lo pienso… pero el es el mas grande y poderoso, como lo puedo siquiera comparar conmigo? al caso… angel no me ama. y si lo hace, no me lo demuestra. y si lo hace, no lo veo. el sabe cual es mi lenguaje del amor. se lo he dicho. me dice de recordarselo, pero q le voy a recordar? q hagamos cosas juntos? q me preste atencion? q me hable? lo q quiero es q el tb quiera hacer algo conmigo, quiero q me escuche, igual q quiero escucharlo a el. si no quiere nada de eso, q se supone q haga? no le puedo reclamar nada… entonces debo dejarlo. no quiero cambiarlo. ya dije mis exigencias y creo haber negociado con el y aclarado q es lo q ambos queriamos. requiero de muchos cariño y y afecto. ambos estamos en las mismas y nos sentimos horrible de no poder tocarnos. tal vez hasta se sienta el peor q yo. no… tal vez no, el se siente fatal pq no podemos estar fisicamente juntos. pero en ese caso pq no me deja. dicen q es mejor dejar a la persona q amas si no eres feliz con ella… sera q el me ama mas por no querer dejarme ir aunq se sienta mal? no lo se… es la primera vez q pienso en esa posiblidad. pero no… no es asi. el solo le cuesta dejar ir a las personas. no soy la unica. le cuesta dejar ir a cualquiera. no soy especial. nunca lo fui y nunca lo sere. se me olvidaba q solo yo se como amar y cuidar de mi misma. nadie lo puede hacer en mi lugar. el me hizo pense q si… mintio, verdad? y si no es eso, y si de verdad esta confuso como lo podria estar cualquier ser humano, soy yo la q esta sobrepensando y siendo una engreida… como si fuera la mejor del mundo. como si supiera amar mejor q nadie. pero que le hago? son mis sentimientos. asi me siento. traicionada de nuevo. porque pensaba q me amaba en serio asi como me estoy arriesgando a todo por estar con el. no me importa gastar todo mi dia con tal de poder escucharlo decirme un solo tq… sera q exagero? entonces pq me enojo? si solo le digo q me lo diga el me lo dira. si le insito en q es en serio, seguro me escuchara… a no ser q tenga sus razones, right? joder, q es esto? pq es q complico siempre las cosas? pq hablo tanto? deberia solo cerrar la boca y dejar de tomarlo todo personal. sin llorar y calmada t ves mas elegante… no dejes q esto t afecte. quierete mesh. estas bien sin el. estoy bien. solo me necesito a mi. y si quiere acompañarme en mi aventura y compartir su vida conmigo adelante y si no sera una pena pero me hare bi y seguire haciendo el estupido hasta q me harte de ello o seguire mejorando como mujer y tendre exito en lo q sea q haga. eso es todo… quiero ser feliz.

[burekstation]

The Joanthan-animal talk I saw from @animate-mush now has made me think. So, so far he's been like a "rat in a trap" (panicking prey animal), now "surely in the toils"/ensnared (typically a hare, caught prey animal). Even the baby he had compared himself to is prey, in context (vulnerability). His last name can mean hart, hare, and listener (essential for prey).

It looks like his fate is that of a quarry to be torn apart in its snare.

Will he let such a thing stop him?